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pumpkin poem

filhas do tempo
mas alas, sonhos justos
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
muito bem, vocĂŞ liberais
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
todos aqueles tesouros que se encontram
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta
sombras voadas que varrem perto
uma milha atrás
até sua janela da câmara
na esfera
uma vida na onda do oceano
eu ganhei a raça
qual eu desejo observar

 



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